Beautiful Child Dream
by Poppuri-chan
Summary: A beginning to a story, might finish this some day.


Well, here I am again. And I promised never to return, I can never keep my promises, can I? Oh, the blood keeps on flowing, a never-ending crimson waterfall, leaving my body through the deep cuts in my wrists. My cellphone is in a tight grip in my right hand, I just dialed 911. Even though I said to myself; "This time, I won't call", I did. In a moment of pure joy when the anxiety inside me finally left, a sudden wave of panic alerted some primal instinct in my brain, causing me to make the call for help. Almost like a reflex really. But just as I blurted out my location, I regretted it deeply. I never truly want help, but the survival instinct is still there, making its move at the most unfit times. But they're on their way, and it can't be helped now. It's not like I can call back and say; "Oh wait, I've changed my mind, cancel everything." It doesn't work that way in this world.

Mother is going to get so worried, and she'll probably cry a lot too. She always cries when something like this happens. But I didn't think much about what the others will think and feel. Right now, it's all about me. It's always about me. The various pills I took a few hours ago is having quite the effect on me, so dizzy and numb, nothing hangs together anymore, nothing makes any sense. My body feels so light, yet so heavy at the same time. My chest feels funny; it's hard to breathe properly. Voices in my head talk to me scream advice, taunting me, every single one disagreeing with the others in a big confusing mush. But I don't listen. After you get used to them you never do. The hard thing is trying to figure out when an actual person is speaking to you, their voices awfully similar and equally, if not more, annoying.

A burning sensation in my throat, the contents of my stomach is trying to come up again, but I hold it back. Can't make a mess now, that would be so rude to those who would have to clean it up. It's so cold, yet I'm sweating so much. I can hear the ambulance making noises outside with its siren, waking the neighbors from their slumber. The front door is only locked with a chain, a little habit from a while ago that won't go away. I roll down from my bed, slipping in my own fresh blood. I try to lock my bedroom-door, preventing them from coming and saving this broken down body of mine. But as strength escapes my body, I fall to the floor, almost unconscious. The cut the door-chain open with those bulky bolt-cutters they have and storm inside. They spot my pale, near-dead body in a pool of my own crimson-red blood, and quickly carry me onto one of those ambulance-beds, rolling me into the vehicle. Two of them stay behind, probably to tell my family when they come home and to clean up the mess I made. My body is getting lighter and lighter, like I'm floating away.

"_Respiratory arrest! We're losing her!"_

Their odd machines are bleeping uncontrollably, warning them that I won't stay for long. I feel insanely heavy and everything went into unfocused and blurry slow-motion. I can barely hear their voices as they try to call my attention;

"_Hello? Can you hear me? Are you there?"_

"_I can't stop the bleeding, have you called the surgeon yet?"_

"_We're almost there, hang on!"_

"_Her pupils are dilated, but she won't respond, give her 200 __mg of__ Epinephrine, stat!"_

Their voices so many, calling out to me, trying to pull me back to their rotten world, but it's all in vain. This time, I know I won't be coming back.

A sharp burning pain in my right arm, and I suddenly jolt back into life.

"_Stats are improving, get me some oxygen!"_

"_Change the bandages, they're soaked through already!"_

"_Can you hear me? Blink if you can hear my voice."_

… What? What did he say? I've forgotten, but it appears my reaction doesn't please him.

"_Hello? Can you hear me?__"_ He says with more determination and frustration in his voice.

I simply stare at him, locking his eyes into mine. He's quite old compared to me, but then again, I'm simply a teenager. An ugly teenager, starved to the hip bones and ribs showing. Not intentional starving, mind you, I'm not one of those anorexic girls. They say that's an actual illness, but I can't help wondering if some of them do that to please guys. I doubt guys like bones, but what do I know? I've never had a boyfriend, never been in love either. Heck, I've never even kissed a boy! I probably should be very sad about that; never have loved. But is that really so bad? All you ever hear is that it isn't worth it, that it hurts and that love is a game that no one wins at. All I'm good at is adding more scars on my body and in my soul.


End file.
